Interference
by Louise3
Summary: Allie is a normal 18 year old an art student with a passion for the law. When reality begins to fall apart around her, she is handed the most surreal mission imaginable and it is up to her to help save millions!
1. Beginnings

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Hi there people! Well, I'm not exactly new to ff.net – I've read loads of fanfiction here before and I love it. So I thought it was about time I contributed some work. I wanted to try something a bit different here but I'm sticking to the time travel thing, 'cause I like it! I know it's been done countless times before but it doesn't stop me liking the idea! So there! Please be gently, this is my first fic ever. 

Before I get started I'd just like to state for the record that, unfortunately, I own NOTHING! (Well, apart from my own characters and I think it's pretty obvious who they are).

On with the show!

It had been three years. Three long, hard years and I had resisted this course of action for all of them. Of course, I'd adapted – I was strong and definitely not stupid (If I do say so myself), so I had learned how to survive – how to use my skills in this new world. It took a long time to come to terms with. I didn't believe it for the longest time and I suppose I acted as any other human being in my situation would have. 

Let me start at the beginning. My 18th birthday party was in full swing. Music, cake, wine – the whole lot. My Dad even got up and made a speech, which ended with him letting me cut the huge chocolate cake with one of his ornamental swords. It was perfect. My best friends in the whole world were there, my family, even my cat – but I was about to loose all of that – was about to be swallowed up by time. I had no idea that I was just hours away from being ripped away from everyone I cared about.

"Allie, be careful with that!" My mum scolded playfully as I brandished the cake-cutting sword. It was actually a band boy's sword – never used for fighting but a sword nonetheless. It was quite short – about two and a half feet, slightly dented and definitely _not_ shiny – I liked that; it showed its history and authenticity. I'd always been interested in those sorts of things. My best friend was in the fencing team at her university and had shown me a thing or two about swords. Being a bit of a tomboy, this was right up my alley! I made sure no one was in the way and swung the weapon through the air. It wasn't exactly heavy but it wasn't a foil if you know what I mean. I giggled slightly – why were stupid things like swinging a piece of metal around so much fun? 

"Don't worry mum, I'm practically an expert at this – you know Jackie's been teaching me some stuff. Watch". 

I lunged and managed to step slightly off balance, allowing the sharp metal to connect slightly with the kitchen table. A minor scratch appeared on the wooden surface, but it looked quite at home with the other scars the table had acquired over the years – mainly from my various escapades. 

"Sorry". I murmured sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck with one hand.

"An expert hey?" Mum asked, raising one eyebrow. "Well, Zoro, come through here, there's one last present for you."

My ears perked up at this and I followed closely at my mum's heals, holding the sword carefully in my hands. It's a family tradition that we get all of our gifts in the morning, first thing, as we wake up, so I was surprised that there was a present left unopened at this late hour. All of the other guests had gone home but as I entered I saw my brother and sister seated side by side on the sofa, with a delicately wrapped package in-between them. I ran over to my siblings who beamed at me.

"Here you go sis," my sister said as she picked up the package and handed it to me, "Happy 18th." I beamed at her and, since this was my last present of the day, decided to take my time unwrapping it. Carefully I pulled at the blue ribbon encircling it. The package was about as big as a large briefcase and covered in tasteful blue paper. Running my hand over the smooth parcel, I gently placed my fingers between the folds of paper and pulled. It ripped easily, with a satisfying tear, so I tugged a little more to reveal … a box. Good, this was good. Suspense is good – it makes the gift more exciting. I couldn't stand it any longer; I ripped the lid of the mysterious parcel and gasped at what lay inside. 

It was beautiful and I know it's a cliché but it's just what I'd always wanted. A proper art set. Of course, I had pencils and crayons for college but nothing like this! It had everything I could possibly need and must have cost a fortune. You see, I was an art student. Well, I was at that time. I was having a gap year before university and wanted to do something a little less stressful than my A Levels had been – art seemed perfect. Despite my love of art, I was determined to be a student of the law at uni – I was a straight A student and had already been accepted at one of the top unis in England. I was happy. Things were looking good. One of the perks of studying art for a year, was that instead of having to work in some seedy bar, I could just sell my work! Like I said, perfect. 

"Wow, guys!" I exclaimed, my eyes lighting up. "This is amazing! I can't believe it. I'm gonna do so many great things with this stuff." 

Running a hand over the materials the box contained, I looked up at the family which surrounded me – smiling and bright, happy that they had made me happy. It was an amazing day but a tiring one and soon, everyone was on their way up to bed. I had college the next day and had to be up early, so I packed my bag and slipped in-between the soft sheets – glad to be able to stretch out and relax completely. Reaching out, I turned off my bedside lamp. I closed my eyes, sighing contentedly, little realising that that would be the last time I would see my normal life. 

* * *

My eyes flickered softly open. I was still lying in my bed, still warm and still peaceful but things were different. The familiar surroundings of my bedroom had disappeared and were instead replaced with a pure white, octagonal room. It seemed as if the walls were glowing. I sat up, feeling not frightened or shocked, only perplexed. I still had that warm, content, sleepy feeling inside.

On one of the walls, a tiny crack was visible. I stared intently at it, as if something was drawing me to it and as I watched, the fracture seemed to grow, like a plant growing up the wall. It expanded lengthways and width ways until it was about four metres in height and one in width. Behind it lay utter blackness – like a hole to nowhere. Despite my strange surroundings, I was only curious and even when a long, slender arm shot through the gap in the wall, I only looked on more intently. The arm was quickly followed by the form of a tall, thin man. As his eyes locked upon mine, they widened considerably, matching his grin. 

"It is _so_ good to finally meet you Miss Jennings!" The man exclaimed excitedly moving over to my bedside. 

"A pleasure to meet you too." I responded, without wondering once how this strange man knew my name. He was about six feet in height and had a shock of red hair. Dressed in a Victorian suit, he seemed to have stepped straight from the past. "Who exactly are you though?"

The man chuckled. "My name is Peter Jacobs. You're probably wondering what is going on." I nodded silently. "Well, this _is_ most exciting news for you – you have been chosen!"

My blank stare gave away the fact that I had no clue as to what he meant. "I am part of a group which deals with time and dimensions. Now please listen carefully because this may be a little hard for you to take in. It has taken a team of us years to complete our research and the result is … you! There are an infinite number of dimensions, each one slightly different from the others." 

I had some vague idea of this theory, having studied Physics at GCSE level. "Our research spans these dimensions. We have incomprehensible amounts of data. And all of this work, all of this effort, put in by so many thousands of dedicated workers, was all to find you!" The man's hands were clenched and pulled in close to his chest in excitement, joy evident on his friendly features.

"You see," he continued with glee, "in the second half of the nineteenth century, something went drastically wrong. The world was changed forever – for the worse. Things could hardly have deteriorated faster after 'the incident'."

I looked intently at him, wondering what on earth he was talking about. "I'm sorry," I began, "but the world seems perfectly fine to me". 

At this his smile miraculously grew, something which up until a moment ago I had thought impossible. "Ah yes! _Your_ world is perfectly fine. It is, however, a different world of which I speak. A different reality." 

Now, if this had been any other time, I would have laughed out loud. Or run away very quickly. Not sure which. The point is, I didn't do either of these things. It was like I was in some sort of trance. I nodded towards the strange man. 

The brilliant smile faded from his face and the light in his green eyes seemed to vanish as he embarked upon the next part of his explanation. "Their reality was damaged _so_ terribly. It is unimaginable. The most foul minds of your world could not even begin to comprehend the suffering in their world."

"They?" I asked after a seconds thought.

"Yes, _they_. You will understand soon enough. Our calculations have led us to you. _They_ need you. You are the only one in all of these worlds who has the correct combination of features, qualities, and brain patterns, to help them. I work for a section of our government which deals with these other dimensions and their times. We have developed a set of moral rules governing our conduct concerning these dimensions and our usual practice is simply to observe and to learn. Very rarely is any interference necessary." 

"Kinda like in Star Trek?" I asked innocently.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Ummmmm, yes. I suppose, a little like in your Star Trek." A hint of his former smile returned. "However, after many years of studying the case and debating the course of action in our courts of law, we have decided that interference is utterly necessary. And now, we have decided that you must be sent to do the interfering directly! To change their history!" 

I was now very aware that something very big was about to happen. 

"How long will I need to be there for?" I asked, sensibly.

"As long as you are needed. Now, my team of experts is exactly that – expert, but despite their best efforts, they still cannot predict exactly _when_ you should be sent to, however when the time comes you will know. It is regrettable that we can offer you no training for such an important mission but it is crucial that you must not be tampered with on our part – they need _you_. As you are now. If we alter the way you think, we alter the way you will act and that would not do, I am sure." 

"Nice." I stated simply. He smiled reassuringly again, sighing slightly. 

"I do wish I could tell you more but I am afraid that it would be quite impossible." Again he sighed. "Good luck". With one long, pale finger, he pointed to another position on the wall before my eyes another small crack appeared before me, growing just like the previous one had. "All you have to do, is walk through".

Without hesitation, I swung myself out of bed, padded calmly across the warm floor, still bare foot and in my pyjamas, and stood before the mighty fissure - a rip in time and reality. Without looking back once, I took the ultimate step and was swiftly engulfed by blackness. I had left everything behind but I hadn't even given a thought to that at the time. All I know is that I did it. And I would do it again knowing what I know now. I was about to change a world I knew nothing about, or so I though, for when I arrived there, things seemed strangely familiar. 

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Well, there ya go! Chapter one – done and dusted! Sorry about the lack of Sherlock and co. but I promise that they're coming. Just wanted to set the scene first. Anyway, what do you think? Should I keep going, or should I abandon this and try something completely different? Constructive criticism is always welcome.


	2. Three Years

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Awwwwww, wow guys! Thanks so much for your nice reviews. I swear to God, when I read them, I did a little dance around the room! I was kinda nervous about it all but you've put me right at ease. I'll keep all your advice in mind when writing.

Now, on with the story! 

As I looked about at my new surroundings, a sudden shiver ran down my spine. The calming effects of the white room had worn off almost the second I'd arrived. Whirling around to face the wall, I searched intently for the crack which had led me to this place. I ran my hands frantically over the cold surface, trying in vain to find even the smallest of rifts. But it was hopeless. The wall was as solid as any wall should be. 

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Don't panic, don't panic. I told myself. I started to panic._ You always knew you were a little insane – but this isn't just a little insane. This is a LOT insane! _

I was in some kind of bedroom. There were wardrobes and chests of drawers and a large bed, among other things. On the bed I noticed, was a rather large trunk. Attached to the trunk was a tag with my name scrawled across it. 

I must have been standing there for a whole twenty minutes, hyperventilating for most of them, before I finally forced myself to put one foot in front of the other and walk across the room to the window. Gently I pulled back the red curtain which shielded my view of the outside world. 

My mind was telling me that this was all a bad dream but I knew that if it was not, and the man I had met only a short time ago was in fact real, the sight I was about to behold may be slightly different to the one I was used to. 

Gathering all of my courage, I took my first look at the new world in which I found myself. 

That was it! That was definitely _it_! I _was_ insane! Whacko! Loopy! The street outside was covered with dirty snow, piled up on each side of the road like dark, ugly hills. Not _entirely_ unusual. 

What _was_ unusual were the tracks embedded in the icy mass – not the usual car tyre marks I was used to but those of old-fashioned carriages and the horses which pulled them. 

The street below me buzzed with activity – paperboys yelled out brand new headlines which meant nothing to me, cabs rattled past, people hurried in and out of shops, completely unaware of my surveillance. 

I blinked.

I blinked again. 

Nothing changed. I was in a different time! Not just a different time, but a different reality – if I was to believe what I had been told. No cars adorned the streets before me. No Marks and Spencer. No fast food restaurants. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before – except for on TV and in the drawings of books of course. 

Now, being an ordinary human being, I was not particularly well equipped to handle such a situation in a respectable and civilised manner. 

Stumbling backwards, I felt the cold metallic box on the bed contact harshly with my arm. I was so dazed by the whole situation that I had hardly even remembered that it was there. 

The box tipped over with a loud clatter, allowing the lid to fly open, its contents spilling over the wooden floor before me. This was too much to handle. Lying at my feet was a pile of my own possessions – books, clothes, photos, papers, a Walkman, CDs, and most importantly, my brand new art set!

With a trembling hand, I reached out to touch my belongings and as I did so, the pressure seemed to build up inside me. I knelt down slowly, reaching out a numb hand to pick up the set of precious materials. As I did so, an old photo was uncovered – my brother's first day at primary school. 

Mum had made us all stand out in the garden with him to have photos taken. It was the perfect family scene – Mum, Dad, my sister, my brother and I – all completely happy. 

As I looked at the small image in front of me, I began to realise just what I had lost. I felt as if I was about to explode. This was _way _too much, _way_ too fast. There was nothing I could do to stop it. The world grew quickly darker, my unfamiliar surroundings swirling around me, until everything stopped and blackness took over.

***

That was three years ago. I have been in this place for _three years_. Learning how to survive. Learning about society, how to conduct myself and the sort. I still find it difficult. For the first few months, I cowered in that room, wishing for someone to appear and take me back home. 

But that never happened. I was on my own and I had to accept it. It appeared that a few of my basic needs had been taken care of by my old friend Peter. The room was mine. I don't know how he organised it but he did - quite comfortable lodgings let to me by a kindly woman named Shelby. 

There were clothes in the cupboards, and money in my purse – not an endless supply but more than enough to support me for a good while. 

I had no idea what to do. I'd been told that I might have to wait for the right time to act – to interfere, but I could conceive of no possible way _I_ could do any good in this world. It had seemed fine to me on arrival. As fine as a Victorian era can be. Things were just as they should have been at home in the 19th Century. 

So after a year, I finally managed to pull myself together. I cleaned myself up and decided to make the best of a bad situation – as far as I was concerned, a _very_ bad situation! I began drawing and painting. Landscapes were my thing and as winter came back around I managed to create some quite beautiful Christmas scenes. 

It was so strange. Almost everything in this world was the same as in my own. Only small differences stood out - subtle variations, such as the names of inventors and writers. No Thomas Hardy existed here, or if he did, he was certainly no brilliant author. 

It had not taken long for me to notice one particular name, which always seemed to be on people lips and in the papers - a one Mr Sherlock Holmes. That was, of course, a very familiar name to me. I had read all of the books in my reality. This was the strangest difference I had encountered so far – a fictional character given life. I was shocked at first. Then again I was getting used to sudden surprises. 

So it seemed to me that this man, being the greatest discrepancy I had so far found, could conceivably be linked to my "mission". I know I should have gone to see him right away, but I was scared and for the longest time, disbelieving of my situation. Why should I care about some world, some time, some reality I had never even heard of before and barely believed in?! 

So I did not go. 

I steered well away from the esteemed Mr. Holmes. I kept informed of his escapades and waited. Until now. Things are growing steadily worse here. Just as the "experts" predicted. Crime is sweeping the country – the world even. Thefts, murders, kidnappings – the whole lot. Not like in my world. Naturally, there was crime but not like this. It was as if a wave of pure evil was washing over this place, and after three long, hard years, I realised that the time had finally come. 

I _had _to go and see _him_. I was drawn to him and I knew what I had to do. 

***

I must have walked up and down Marylebone Road ten times before I finally mustered the courage to take the turning to Baker Street. It was much the same as any other street in London, apart from the fact that arguably the greatest detective time has ever known lived on it. 

The streets used to be filled with people going about their daily business but now people only ventured out onto the streets for essentials. People cowered in their homes, afraid of what lurked outside. So, as you can imagine, it was not easy to take this step alone. 

Finally I reached _the_ door. Under any other circumstances, I would have found this exciting – thrilling even but now, standing before that huge dark door, I felt sick with worry. 

The moment I knocked on that door, I would change things. It was a big responsibility. What if I messed up? What if, instead of making things better, I ended up making them worse? There was no guarantee I could help. Peter had basically told me that I was this world's best bet, but it wasn't set in stone that I could do a thing to help. Once I committed myself, there was no going back. 

Taking a deep breath, I threw myself into the unknown, and rapped on the door with a sudden surge of nervous energy.

After a few seconds, the door creaked open and there stood who could only be Mr. Holmes's very famous housekeeper.

"Mrs. Hudson, I'm here to see Mr Holmes." My God! I had never thought I would hear myself say those words. How incredibly surreal! 

The lady in front of me cocked her head to one side, squinting at me slightly, as if trying to figure me out and no doubt wondering how I knew her name.

Opening her mouth to speak, I quickly cut her off. Seeming confident was essential. 

"Here's my card." I smiled reassuringly as I handed her a small rectangle – I had had a few specially made to accompany my artwork – occasionally I sold a drawing, making a small amount. At first, the art was merely to keep me sane but as time went by, a few of my new acquaintances had taken a liking to my work. 

I tried my best to distance myself from the inhabitants of this place, keeping myself to myself, but it _is_ almost impossible to avoid contact forever. I suppose I was merely considered an eccentric artist – almost a recluse, which suited me fine. I tried my best to fit in but it wasn't easy to change all my little habits. 

Mrs Hudson disappeared for a few moments and returned with a look on her face that told me she was not entirely comfortable with my presence. 

I was shown upstairs and there, waiting at the top was the door to the famous living room. My heart was pounding so fast I felt dizzy but I knew I had to do this. I had to meet him. Most importantly, _he_ had to meet me. 

This was going to require some severe tact.

Mrs Hudson opened the door in front of us and led me in. 

There he was. Standing by the mantle piece, pipe in hand, hair combed flat, looking pristine, just as the books had described him. He was the Holmes I hadalways pictured. 

"Miss Jennings, do come in". 

I couldn't move. 

Oh dear. This was _not_ good. 

"Miss Jennings?" A voice from beside me asked with concern. "Are you quite alright?" Oh my God! It was Watson, looking as Watsonish as I had always imagined he would. 

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Pull yourself together! I mentally yelled at myself. _You're here for a reason! You're strong! You can do this! Just forget who they are and get on with it!_

"Um, yes." I managed. "Yes, I'm sorry. It's just that entering such a warm room from the cold..."

"Say no more!" Holmes moved swiftly from the mantle to his chair besides the window, gesturing for me to sit down. Doctor Watson moved to his own chair, providing a reassuring smile. 

I had prepared for this in my head for weeks now but I had never imagined that actually being here would have this effect on me. 

There was a long silence as we three sat in the cosy little room. Holmes sat with his legs crossed in front of me, eyes closed as if meditating. 

I opened my mouth to speak but was swiftly silenced with a warning glance from Watson. Perfect. I took this opportunity to implement phase one of my plan. I began to hum softly, looking at the ceiling. 

Only a few seconds passed like this but it was enough. 

"Please," Holmes began, placing the tips of his long thin fingers together in front of his eager face. "dear lady, what has troubled you so that you have been forced to seek my humble services?" 

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Confidence Allie!

"Mr Holmes, I have a quite remarkable story to tell you, an almost unbelievable story."

Holmes closed his eyes, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"A number of years ago…"

"How many?!" His voice was raised with impatience.

"I beg your pardon".

"How many years exactly? I have no patience for imprecision."

"Quite right Mr Holmes. I apologise. It was three years ago. Something happened which changed my life." I knew what was running through his mind – an affair of the heart gone wrong, a missing relative, possibly a runaway from the law. He couldn't have been more wrong. 

"Please, you must tell me all that you know if I am to help you." Holmes responded. 

"I am afraid, Mr Holmes, that if I tell you all I know, you will not be willing to help me. It is quite an odd situation." 

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"Then, if you are unwilling to furnish me with all of the facts, I fear we have nothing further to discuss." Holmes stood and made a move towards the door.

"Wait!" I stood too, whirling around to face him. "I'll tell you." 

Holmes smiled. These were _his_ tactics but I had my own. 

Both Holmes and I settled back into our chairs as I began. 

"I awoke three years ago to a world I did not recognise. I found myself in a strange room. I had no memory whatsoever of my life before that moment – of my name, of any relatives. It is as if I had been born into that room. It is as if my memory was erased." I lied convincingly. 

"Erased?" Holmes questioned, his eyebrows raising. "I believe this is a medical condition – very rare as I understand". He glanced at Watson, who nodded. 

"Yes Holmes," Watson confirmed, "but it is unheard of for a person to experience the condition continuously for years on end. Usually amnesia lasts seconds, minutes, weeks - maybe in very severe cases months but this…" 

"You did not seek medical advice?" Holmes inquired. 

"Oh yes, I did but it has in no way helped. I had no mark upon me which a doctor could investigate. I am still as clueless about my past as I was when I first woke up on that fateful day."

"And the room?"

"It is a comfortable room not far from here. When I finally found the courage to explore beyond those four walls, I met the landlady; Mrs Shelby, who seemed to know me a little. She told me a man had organised the lodgings for me."

"Most singular." Holmes remarked. 

Watson had been listening intently – obviously the medical side of this case fascinated him. "It is _most_ unusual. In all cases, some memory is eventually retrieved but three years and still nothing?" 

I nodded solemnly.

Holmes stood. "Was there any clue as to your identity in the room?"

I smiled. "Yes. A box full of strange items. It was the box which gave me my name – attached to it was a tag addressed to me. The box also held enough money to support me for a long time. It is how I have been able to survive – keeping up this standard of living".

"Nothing else".

"Nothing".

"Then, I think it would be best, if I could view this box and the "strange items" for myself. What do you say doctor? Do you have time to spare?"

"Of course Holmes!" The doctor responded eagerly, springing from his chair. 

And so we headed to my humble lodgings. This was perfect. There was no way Holmes would believe my story straight off but if he had all the evidence, in time he may come to accept the truth. It was my only option. It _had_ to work. 

All I had to do was play dumb and hope that my plan worked. 

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And that's the second chapter done! What did you all think? I re-wrote the last section about three times before I thought it was right - that's why it took a while. Sorry! As always, constructive criticism is welcome. Thanks. 

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